


Don't Speak

by spiritualmachines



Category: Hanson (Band)
Genre: Language, M/M, Male Slash, One Shot, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2019-05-23 17:19:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14938565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritualmachines/pseuds/spiritualmachines





	Don't Speak

**Author's Note:**

> *This is the first post in our collection of unrelated (unless otherwise noted) shorts, posted exclusively on Fridays.

**DON'T SPEAK**

“Tay, I really don’t think that’s the best idea—” Zac began, but was once again cut off by the self-serving sound of his older brother.

Taylor loved to hear himself talk, of that Zac was firmly convinced, and his blatant inability to compromise made dealing with him nearly impossible. Once Taylor had an idea in his head, he refused to shut up until everyone else in the room was on board with it. Precious as his voice was, Taylor would talk until he was hoarse if it meant getting everyone to agree with him (by way of wearing them down). Most of the time, he got his way simply because Isaac and Zac got tired of listening to him.

This time, though, Zac was determined to get his point across.

“Can you _stop_ talking for just one minute and listen to _me_ for once?” he snapped.

“But the drums aren’t the issue,” Taylor insisted, punctuating the remark with a wave of his hand. “It’s the guitar riffs that I think are a little stale. We need to change them up in the chorus; inject some adrenaline straight into the heart of the song.” 

“And I can do that with a different cadence if you would just hear me out. The guitars are fine the way they are,” Zac shot back, refusing to back down and frankly more than a little pissed that Taylor had tried to dismiss him with a flick of his wrist.

He glanced over at Isaac, hoping that the guitarist himself would help back him up, but Ike didn’t take the bait. He appeared to be texting, reclining in his chair with his legs crossed at the ankles as he tapped lazily at his phone’s keypad. He had probably tuned them out a solid half-hour ago. 

Reaching a foot out, he kicked his eldest brother in the thigh and ignored his immediate cries of abuse. 

“We are getting nowhere fast. Let’s just go home and call it a day,” Zac declared. 

Isaac didn't need to be told twice. He practically bolted from his chair and was out of sight before Zac could even draw another breath. He didn't bother packing up because they would be right back where they started the next morning which, according to the clock above the door, was just a few hours away. 

When Isaac was gone, Taylor finally closed his mouth and his lips formed a disgruntled pout that he’d perfected over time. In the beginning, that single gesture had been all he needed to get what he wanted from Zac, but over the years the younger man had become immune to it. Simply put, Taylor needed some new ammo if he was going to continue to manipulate him. 

“Oh, stop it. Don't you remember what Mom used to say? Stick it out a little further and a bird might shit on it,” Zac quipped. 

“Mom never said ‘shit,’” Taylor pointed out. 

“Yeah, well, I'm not Mom, in case you haven't noticed,” he replied irritably. 

“Come on, Zac, don't be like that,” Taylor whined, moving close enough to place his hands on Zac’s hips, hooking his fingers into his belt loops. Still pouting. 

Zac tensed up immediately, preparing to steel himself against any further advances. He didn't want to let Taylor know that he still had such a powerful effect on him, that just one touch could warm him from the inside out and kick his heart rate into overdrive. But was there any real point in hiding it, when Taylor could probably _feel_ the effect himself?

“I just want what’s best for the song,” Taylor continued, typically not even waiting for a response before he continued to talk.

“No,” Zac was quick to protest. “If that was true, you’d actually _listen_ to the other members of this band instead of just talking over us all the fucking time.”

Although he really did wish to conceal the depth of his unorthodox feelings, he didn't even try to hide his frustration. How could he? Taylor was impossible. Beautiful beyond measure, in a way that he could barely fathom or articulate—but impossible all the same. 

When Taylor tugged at his belt loops, Zac lost the last flimsy bit of balance and resolve he was precariously hanging on to and gasped, falling against his brother’s chest. 

“I upset you. I still don't really understand _why_ , but I do know that much,” Taylor spoke against his ear, the heat of his breath raising gooseflesh on Zac’s exposed forearms, not to mention the sensitive skin of his neck. “How can I make it up to you?”

“You can listen to me for once,” Zac grumbled, hating that his body responded to Taylor so easily and he was helpless to stop it.

“I’m listening,” Taylor responded, his voice lowered just enough to make it even more alluring. “I swear I am. You know I hate it when you're mad at me. Please just tell me what you need.”

Just like that, Taylor switched from impossible to impossibly appealing. On one hand, Zac could barely stand to hear him beg; on the other hand, it was exactly what he wanted. 

But what he wished for most of all was to be in charge for once. To call the shots and not have to answer to anyone.

With a strength he'd always known he possessed but hadn't believed himself strong enough to wield, he pushed Taylor backward several steps, shaking his head and challenging him with his eyes. 

“You couldn’t give me what I need,” he said in as steady a voice as he could manage. “Not even if you gave it your very best. You’re not built for what I need.”

He knew full well that Taylor would see that as a dare, and he also knew that he wouldn't back down. 

“Try me.”

Zac crossed his arms across his chest and narrowed his brown eyes to focus on the clear blue staring right back at him. 

“You do what I want, the way I want it. If you don’t do as I say, your idea gets flushed down the toilet and the song ends up the way that I want it. You’re at my mercy and I am in complete and total control,” he explained, pausing to wait for Taylor’s inevitable response. 

Taylor huffed and shook his head with laughter. 

“Really? You don't think I'm built for that? Game on. Challenge accepted. You can do whatever you want to me, little brother. I’m not going to lose.”

Suddenly the challenge in Zac’s eye gave way to a defiant sparkle and he reached to press his index finger to Taylor’s heart-shaped lips. 

“I am so happy you said that. Because from this moment forward, you aren’t allowed to speak until I say so. From this very second, if you utter so much as a single word, you lose.”

“Aye-aye, captain,” Taylor replied, his voice muffled against Zac’s fingertip.

Zac grunted and grabbed a handful of Taylor’s hair, tightening it in his fist. 

“You really don’t fucking listen at all, do you? I told you not to say a single word. I am choosing to believe you didn’t disobey me on purpose—you can’t possibly be _that_ dumb—so I’ll give you a free pass just this once. But if you do it again, it’s over. Are we clear?”

Their faces were mere inches apart now, but Zac refused to allow either of them the luxury of indulging in the softness of his brother’s lips. That would come soon enough. For now, he couldn't show even the smallest sign of weakness. He’d cast himself in this role, and he was determined to deliver. 

For a moment, Taylor truly seemed thrown as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his lips twitching beneath the finger that was still pressed against his lips. He could tell that it was taking every ounce of Taylor’s willpower not to speak, and seeing that struggle pleased him. Taylor had watched him squirm on countless occasions; but this time, the tables were turned, and he had to admit that it felt pretty damn good.

He gave Taylor’s hair another sharp tug to assert his position. He could tell that he’d actually showered that morning by the silky softness of the strands in his grip. He released his brother just long enough to lock the door of the studio before leading him to the couch that lined the far wall, shoving him down onto it.

Taylor stared up at him, his blue eyes wide, his cheeks tinged a surprised and ruddy pink, his chest visibly heaving beneath his too-thin t-shirt. 

Zac’s hands moved to his belt and he started to undo it, afraid to even blink lest he miss one look on Taylor’s face. Seeing him so vulnerable and quiet was more of a turn-on than Zac could have imagined, and he wanted to commit the sight to memory.

Plus, he couldn’t deny that he liked having Taylor’s eyes on him. 

Zac could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest and he tried to steady himself without showing it. This wouldn't be the first time Taylor had seen him like this, but it was the first time he was the one initiating it. There was no longer a smokescreen to hide behind. Taylor was no longer coaxing him into something taboo yet undeniably desirable—no, this time, Zac was leading the charge. 

Once his belt was off, he was met with a sudden flash of inspiration, and instead of discarding it onto the floor, he draped it carefully over the arm of the couch. 

Taylor’s eyes flickered to the belt and back to Zac, even wider (and somehow even _bluer_ ) now. He opened and closed his mouth several times and squirmed against the cushions of the couch, making it very obvious that he wanted to ask Zac what he had in mind. But, miraculously, he remained silent and instead fixed his gaze Zac’s hands as he tugged his zipper down. 

He was hard—throbbing, really—and maybe he should have been embarrassed by getting off on a power trip. It was more than just a power trip, though, and they both knew it.

Zac sucked in a breath as he pushed the fabric down, grasping his erection and keeping his eyes on Taylor all the while.

“You know what I want,” he whispered huskily.

Taylor nodded, licking his lips. If Zac didn’t know any better, he could have sworn that a satisfied glimmer flashed through his older brother’s eyes.

Once again, Zac twined his fingers in Taylor’s soft hair and brought him close, making his intentions abundantly clear. When Taylor’s warm mouth engulfed him, he cried out in pleasure, unable to stop himself. The surge of heat through his veins caused him to tighten his grip, digging his closely-clipped fingernails into his older brother’s scalp none too gently.

Zac was torn between closing his eyes against the sin he was committing and watching every inch disappear between Taylor’s perfect lips. In the end, Taylor made that decision for him when he let his hands wander up Zac’s body. As he moved around to grab the curve of Zac’s ass, the younger man growled and gave his fistful of blonde hair an unforgiving tug.

“Mmffffuck,” Taylor mumbled around his length, his teeth just barely grazing the edge of his cock in what Zac assumed was his own personal form of retaliation.

“No. Don’t speak. And don’t you dare bite me,” he warned.

But he knew that the verbal warning wouldn’t be enough, wouldn’t effectively stop Taylor from doing as he pleased. He was going to have to restrain him—and lo and behold, he had just the thing to get the job done.

Letting go of Taylor’s hair, he seized the belt as well as Taylor’s full attention. While he couldn't use it to make him be quiet, he could at least make him keep his hands to himself.

Taylor had made the first moves when they entered this forbidden realm—and the second, third, and fourth moves as well—but he had made it clear from the start that Zac was to set the pace going forward. He knew that Taylor wanted more—Taylor always wanted more; it was in his nature to want everything all at once, to live like he was dying and persuade the rest of the world to join him on his carpe diem quests—but beyond his ever-wandering hands, he had never pushed Zac to give in. Zac didn't think he would try to pressure him when it came to something as permanent and fragile as his virginity, especially not now of all times, but he wanted to restrain him anyway.

As he bound Taylor’s wrists together with the brown leather strap, he willed his hands to stop trembling. A man who knows what he is doing, who is unquestionably in control, never breaks character, never falters. And yet, with every second that ticked by, Zac could feel himself slipping, backtracking toward more familiar territory where Taylor held the reins and he followed. 

But no… no! He wasn’t going to retreat back into his comfort zone. Not today. Zac needed to know he was in charge just as much as he needed Taylor to know it.

Once the belt was secured around his wrists, he let Taylor’s hands come to rest against his own thighs and reached for his brother’s hair again. For some reason, holding on to that part of Taylor was like grasping a security blanket; it was the one motion that settled him, that made him feel like he knew what he was doing when in reality, he didn’t have a single fucking clue.

What he did know was this: he wanted to come.

“Don’t bite me,” he repeated as he drew Taylor in closer, his cock in one hand as he guided it back between his waiting lips.

Taylor obeyed, keeping his teeth a safe distance from Zac’s length as he swallowed inch after inch with apparent ease. 

Zac wasn’t sure what this thing between him and Taylor even was, let alone what it meant or how far it would eventually go, but those gray areas were suddenly of very little consequence. In the moment, all that mattered was how abso-fucking-lutely amazing he felt. Taylor had clearly learned how to do this long before he’d ever lain his hands or mouth on Zac, but Zac didn’t focus on that. He _couldn’t_ focus on that, not when he wanted release so badly he could almost taste it.

“Tay,” he gasped, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate.

Then he threw his head back as a rolling wave of pleasure struck him, luring him closer to the edge.

He came in a series of short, hot spurts, and then it was over—just like that. The lingering heat of Taylor’s mouth and tongue felt too good to be true, and the ghost of a whimper escaped his parted lips of its own accord. 

When Taylor’s skilled lapping at his sensitive skin became too much, he backed away and tried to collect himself. But his breath hitched once more. Seeing Taylor with his hands bound, lips slick with come, and hair disheveled caused an ache deep in the pit of his stomach. An ache he wasn’t yet ready to face.

“You can do what you want with the song,” Zac said, his voice thick and syrupy.

He tried to blink through his post-orgasmic haze, but it was no use. Everything seemed sweeter now; he could hardly remember what they’d been fighting about. 

Taylor regarded him in silence for a dubiously long moment—it was so long, in fact, that Zac fell from his blissful cocoon and back into the real world and began to wonder if he’d done something to upset his brother. But there’s no wrong way to _come_ , is there? That couldn’t have been the problem. Only when Taylor opened his mouth and closed it promptly thereafter did Zac realize what the issue was.

“You can speak now,” he told Taylor quietly.

“I was just going to say that I’ve changed my mind,” he stated plainly. “I like your idea better.”

Zac smiled and then glanced down, feeling pleased and remarkably self-aware all at once. When he looked back up and found Taylor’s eyes again, he was met with an overwhelming rush of love for him and he leaned in to peck him on the lips.

“Maybe I should tie you up more often,” Zac whispered.

“You’re just full of great ideas today, aren’t you?” Taylor replied with a grin.


End file.
